The Solitude of Wakefulness
by lylilunapotter
Summary: After Peggy Carter is injured in battle, Steve Rogers attempts to cheer her up. Or: chocolate won't fix everything, but it makes most things better. A missing moment of peace in the midst of a war.


Standard Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, inventions, or setting, only the order in which these words are laid down. This is a work of fiction produced for my own enjoyment, not profit. Views and beliefs expressed by the characters do not necessarily reflect my own views and beliefs.

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Hours later, his hand still hurt.

Pain was no stranger to him, between his illnesses before the serum, and all the battles that left him with bruises and burns and cracked ribs nowadays. The difference between then and right now, was that he expected the injuries sustained in combat, and he'd expected the pains of asthma and scoliosis, and the deep ache in his joints when he came down with influenza again.

He hadn't expected one of the captured Hydra agents to get a hold of a gun, to get off one shot, let alone two, or for the bullets to hit home in the shoulder of Agent Peggy Carter. He'd not expected the way she'd gripped his proffered hand while they dug the bullets out of her right shoulder, like grinding the bones in his hands together was a touchstone, keeping her flexed his hand. There was a pretty good bruise forming on top of his knuckles. She had a strong grip, strong everything. She hadn't screamed once while they extracted the bullets from her shoulder. He shook his head, dispelling the image of her face twisted up in pain and breathed out slowly.

Steve glanced over to where Peggy was sleeping, slumped against the metal and canvas of the truck wall, and winced in sympathy when the truck hit a pot hole and her whole body jolted. She grimaced, and wriggled around a little, trying to lean back without putting pressure on her right shoulder. Bucky nudged him, and when Steve swiveled to look at him, he nodded in her direction.

"You still got that chocolate bar in the bottom of your bag?" He said in a low tone.

Steve's eyebrows knit together. "Yeah-," and Bucky nodded meaningfully toward her again. It hit him a split second before he asked Bucky what for (Bucky was the only person he'd ever met that didn't care for chocolate.) He leaned in toward his oldest friend, and copied Bucky's tone.

"You think it'd help?"

"There's not much chocolate won't help."

"If you say so," Steve mumbled, unsure. Bucky was certainly the more experienced with women of the pair, Steve usually followed his lead in this arena, but this was Peggy Carter. Steve was pretty sure it wasn't just his bias talking when he thought she wasn't like any other woman in the world. And he still didn't know how to talk to women. Bucky gave him a look, like he knew what Steve was thinking, which he probably did.

"Now, Steve." There was something in his tone that Steve knew from years of experience meant trouble for the person on the other end of it, and he didn't care to be on the receiving end of whatever scheme Bucky'd concoct if Steve didn't follow through. He clearly thought Peggy was good for Steve, and he'd make sure Steve was good for her in return so she stuck around. Steve started rummaging through his bag, quietly, in deference to the soldiers asleep around him. His fingers closed around the cool, crisp paper of the wrapper.

"Jerk," Steve sighed, standing up.

"Punk." Bucky smirked. Steve ignored him and wove his way across the mess on the floor. Behind him, Bucky shuffled around, and when Steve glanced back at him he saw that Bucky had taken advantage of the doubled space and laid down. He was already dropping off to sleep, the ass. Steve had always been jealous of his ability to sleep anywhere, any when. He shook his head and stepped over an errant duffel bag.

As he approached, Steve privately wished he couldn't tell she was still awake by the way she flinched in time to the rocking of the vehicle. Small flickers of movement, but he couldn't help catching them with his enhanced senses.

There was just enough space between Peggy and Dugan, who slept with legs crossed at the ankle, arms across his chest, and bowler over his face, for him to sit. The foil wrapper crinkled as he unfolded it, and Peggy made her first completely voluntary movement since she'd woken up, head rocking to the side to look at him with half-open eyes. He snapped off a piece, and held it out in offering.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"Of course." His own voice was soft, but not from pain, or even to keep from waking the men. She took it with her good hand and bit it in half.

"Mm. Where'd you get real chocolate?" She mumbled, eyes open wider and less clouded with pain. Steve mentally thanked Bucky for pushing him into doing this.

"Howard." He said it like that one word explained everything, and really, it did. Once Howard Stark decided you were a friend he'd move mountains. Or fly to Belgium to buy you expensive chocolate that was most definitely against rationing. She hummed and kept nibbling at her piece. He snapped a piece off when she finished, and another when she finished the second. If she noticed he wasn't eating any, she said nothing. She'd experienced his stubbornness (bullheadedness, Bucky'd said more than once) first-hand enough times to know that Steve did what he thought was best for others, nothing more, nothing less. Right now, Steve thought it was best to keep feeding her squares of chocolate, because the pain in her face was easing and the color was creeping back into her cheeks.

And somehow, the two of them were talking. A real conversation, like all the ones they hadn't had time for, for nearly a year now, like all the ones he'd been too shy to initiate before but wanted to. When he reached the end of the bar and made to hand her the last piece, she gave him a Look, and he knew from his experience with her own brand of stubbornness that she wasn't going to take it. He shrugged slightly and popped the square in his mouth, nearly sighing at the way it melted on his tongue. Howard had excellent taste in material goods, it had to be said.

Hours later, they pulled into a clearing to make camp for the night. The lack of motion was stirring the men into wakefulness, and Steve stood up to finish the job. They walked or staggered past him in varying states of wakefulness. Dugan and Falsworth helped her off the truck as Steve herded Pinky and Bucky off the other side of the tail gait. His eyes met hers for a second and she smiled, saying thank you with her eyes. Steve smiled back and nodded, and the moment was over. Dum Dum and James led her over to the tent where the medic was setting up, and Bucky bumped their shoulders together.

"Told you," he said with a hint of smugness.

"Oh, shut up," Steve sighed.

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A/N: Well, there you have it; my first time writing in this universe. Questions, comments, concerns? Leave a review or send me a private message. If you enjoyed this, please leave a review and tell me why, or just write "I liked this," I'm not picky.


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